


In My Time of Dying

by PrettyMessedUpSituation (MarcelinesNightosphere)



Series: Drabbles and Ficlets from Prompts [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drabble Collection, Ficlet, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Music, No Sex, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 03:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4124232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcelinesNightosphere/pseuds/PrettyMessedUpSituation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean shows Cas his record collection and is surprised by his new friend's knowledge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Time of Dying

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt from [deanlovestaylorswift](http://www.deanlovestaylorswift.tumblr.com).  
> Rebloggable version [here](http://prettymessedupsituation.tumblr.com/post/121379481918/dean-introducing-cas-to-his-record-collection-cas).

“My place or yours?”

It felt a little douchey, but after six beers and the bartenders shouting about last call, Dean didn’t really mind the douchey-ness of the line. Neither did Chris. Or was it Chas?  _Cas_ , it was  _Cas_.

“Do you live near here?” he asked.

“Yup. Two blocks in…that direction,” Dean said, pointing straight, then left, then behind him.

“I think the walk might do you some good,” Cas observed, laughing at the drunken grin on Dean’s face.

“This is all true. Let’s take a walk,” he said, getting out his wallet to pay his tab. “So you like music?” he asked while he waited on the bartender.

“Everything about it,” Cas said.

“Well then. We’ll have a lot to talk about.”

The walk home to Dean’s apartment was brisk in both pace and weather. Dean opened the door and stepped in, hanging his keys and walking straight to the kitchen, snagging a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and tossing one to Cas over the counter. Cas sat on a bar chair that faced into the kitchen and opened the bottle, drinking half of it in one turn.

“Who are your favorite bands?” Cas asked.

“See, why you gotta go throwing  _favorite_ in there? Can’t nail down favorites – I always feel like I’m leaving someone out.”

“You have favorites. Everyone does.”

“True, but you don’t gotta tell  _them_ that,” Dean said, gesturing with his head to the record player in the corner and the wall of vinyl.

“Oh, so we have a collector.”

“Somewhat. Once I sober up a little more I’ll be able to show you the best ones.”

“Mind if I peruse?”

“Per _what_? Yeah, absolutely. Go ahead.”

Dean shook his head when Cas turned away, knowing he should have stopped at four beverages, but he had got to talking and the last two went quick. The walk helped. The water would as well. He just hoped he had it in him to stay awake so the best way of sobering up, time, would work in his favor. He watched Cas move toward the records, notably less drunk than his host. His fingers drifted along the edges of the shelves, traveling in a melodic wave as he took in the various albums and bands. Dean chugged two bottles of water while his guest combed through the options, finally finding one to listen to.

“Led Zeppelin’s  _Physical Graffiti_. May I?” he asked, pointing to the record player.

“It’s, uh, actually  _II_  is already on there,” Dean said. “I was listening to it before I went out.”

“Let me guess…’Ramble On’?”

Dean smiled. “You got me.”

“I’m pretty good at reading people. Music says a lot about a person. Mind if I play something?”

“Not at all.”

Cas switched out the records, carefully placing the needle and helping  _II_  find its place on the shelf while his song began to play. “I love the blues inspiration. I’m sure it’s an unpopular opinion in the Zepp fan base, but Robert Johnson’s version of ‘Traveling Riverside Blues’ has a much bigger soul to it.”

“You shut your mouth,” Dean said without letting a beat fall, half-joking. He thought about it for a moment, then recanted. “Okay, I’m sure you’re right.”

“I know I’m right,” Cas said with a smile. “You’ll have to give it a listen. Blind Willie Johnson’s ‘Jesus Make Up My Dying Bed’ inspired Bob Dylan’s ‘In My Time of Dying’, but I like the Zepp version better than Dylan’s,” he confessed. “Plus, it’s not always the case that your favorite song is eleven minutes long.”

Dean was impressed. “How do you know all this stuff?”  

“Fine Arts major. Focus on music. I’m writing my thesis on the evolution of music in the 19th and 20thcenturies.”

“That’s…awesome. So this is your favorite song?” Dean asked Cas.

“’If my wings should fail me, Lord. Please meet me with another pair’,” Cas replied with a smile and a soft laugh, but his eyes held a sadness and he seemed to drift away.

“You’re right, you know,” Dean said. He stared at Cas, watching his slow return from wherever those lyrics had taken him. “Favorite songs are like…your blueprints. The lyrics are kinda like your how-to manual on understanding what goes on in a person’s head. Music kind of seeps into your soul and becomes a piece of who you are.”

“So are you a philosophy major?” Cas asked, raising his eyebrows as he tipped back his water, taking a long drink to hide his teasing grin.

“Engineering.”

“Well,” Cas started, “I’ll ask the big question then. Who are you? What kind of person is _Dean?”_   he asked, gesturing to the wall of records.

Dean frowned. Crossing his arms, he stared at the collection of vinyl. “I…I don’t really know,” he whispered, his eyes dropping to his feet. A self-depreciating laugh huffed out of him. “A mess?”

The two stood in silence side by side and listened to the lyrics.

 _Oh, did somebody some good. I must have did somebody some good…_  
_Oh, I believe I did_  
  
_I see the smiling faces_  
_I know I must have left some traces_

 _And I see them in the streets_  
_And I see them in the field_  
_And I hear them shouting under my feet_  
_And I know it’s got to be real_  
_Oh, Lord, deliver me_  
_All the wrong I’ve done_  
_You can deliver me, Lord_  
_I only wanted to have some fun._

Cas bumped his shoulder into Dean’s. “No more than me.”


End file.
